Second Generation Home Births: Why I Made
the Same Choice My Mother Did

I am the second generation of women in my family to choose home birth over hospital birth. I enjoyed my two home births and I would gladly choose home birth again. How did my fairly conventional family become a part of one of the most controversial health movements of the late twentieth century? It’s a fascinating story that spans nearly thirty years of changes in obstetrics.

My mom was one of the last generation of women to under go "twilight sleep," and her experience with my birth in 1969 was extremely unpleasant. Natural childbirth (a la Lamaze and Dick-Read) was becoming popular, and Mom asked her doctor about trying it. He refused to consider it, so Mom was forced to have her baby in the “traditional” manner.

She was doped until she was deeply asleep and would feel little, if anything, of what went on during her labour. She was placed in a hospital bed that had high bars all around it like a baby's crib so that she would not fall out. This bed was in a room that had probably 50 or 100 other women, all in similar states of anaesthesia and undergoing labour.

Mom woke up twice during her labour. The first time was when her water broke. She sat up, looked around, and saw the nurses who were supposed to be monitoring her playing cards! She was incensed. She didn't kick up a fuss because she had been told that if she got "out of control" she would be tied down on the bed. The second time she woke was to my grandmother bending over her to tell her she'd had a little girl. When she finally came out of the anaesthesia, there was no one in the room with her. Daddy wasn't there, Grandma wasn't there, and I wasn't there. She was terrified that something had gone wrong and that I was dead. So you could say that Mom's first experience with childbirth was less than encouraging.

When my younger brother was born four years later, Mom again went the traditional doctor/hospital route. This time, the doctor kept telling her that she wasn't ready to have her baby yet and didn’t need to come to the hospital. Mom knew that she was in transition, so Dad argued with the doctor until he agreed to let Mom come to the hospital.

When they got to the hospital, the staff told Dad not to bother filling out the admissions paperwork, because they’d be going right back home. So Dad stood at the doors to the maternity admissions area and looked through the window into the hallway where Mom’s room was. (That was in the time when they didn’t allow fathers into the labour and delivery rooms.) The nurse went in, casually began the examination, and then flew out of the room screaming for a doctor.

When the doctor arrived, my brother was already crowning. When he cut the episiotomy, my brother almost fell on the floor! So Mom's second experience with doctor/hospital style birth was equally as distressing as her first.

In both of those first birthing experiences, my Mom laboured on her back, with no choice about moving around or changing position. When the baby crowned, she was put in the "lithotomy position" -- flat on her back with her feet up in stirrups. This is the most difficult way to deliver a baby, because gravity cannot help the woman push the baby out, and she has to push the baby up and over the pelvic bone, rather than simply pushing the baby through the pelvic opening. Mom was not allowed to eat or drink anything after she was admitted to the hospital, even though she needed the sustenance for the hard work she was doing.

Eight years after that, Mom discovered she was again expecting a child. She was determined not to undergo a hospital birth again. At the time, no doctor would deliver a baby without a fetal monitor screwed into the baby's skull, and Mom was appalled at the idea. She was able to find a team of two midwives, one of them a Registered Nurse, who were actively involved in assisting women with home-delivery of their children.

At the time, home birth was something weirdos or religious fanatics did. Normal people went to hospital. Mom took a lot of flak over her decision, but she was very determined and strong-willed. She and Dad went to home-birth classes, sterilized all sorts of stuff, and prepared everything for this birth. And the end result was beautiful.

I was allowed to stay home from school and help during the day that Mom was in labour. At one point, her labour stopped, and she said she was hungry. Shortly after we gave her something to eat, her labour started again. I was not in the room when my youngest brother was born, but I was brought in some ten minutes later. I helped Dad and Grandma give the baby his first bath. I vowed then that this was what I wanted when I became a mother.

Fourteen years later, I got married, and shortly thereafter we discovered that I was expecting a baby. I told my husband of my desire to have my baby at home, and he was very supportive. I didn't trust the doctors and hospitals, and we couldn't really afford a doctor/hospital birth anyway. We searched for a midwife who would attend a home birth, and finally found a Mennonite lady in a nearby community who was willing to help us. She was very hands-off in her approach, which I was not informed enough to be concerned about.

When my husband was laid off just eight weeks before the baby was due, we moved back to my hometown. There, my family put out an APB for a good midwife with reasonable rates. A friend of my Dad's told us of a midwife who would barter her services; she let us pay for the birth with a painting that my husband did especially for her. This Certified Nurse Midwife was an angel and a miracle all in one.

Because of all the turmoil in our lives, I had no training at all for this birth. I had read some Lamaze books, but had not had time to practise the exercises. I was determined, though, that this baby was going to be born without drugs or medical intervention. Although she was very concerned about me because I had gained 65 pounds in the course of the pregnancy and was starting to show some edema in my legs, the midwife was wonderful in the four weeks that she worked with us before the birth. And when I went in to labour and started getting panicky, she reassured me that all was going well. She showed me how to breathe and she was calm when I couldn't follow her instructions not to push. She was exactly the person I needed to help me bring my son into the world.

When my first son was nine months old, I discovered that I was once again pregnant. I immediately called my midwife and asked her to help me through the second pregnancy and labour. This time, I took a childbirth preparation class at the local hospital. I practiced Lamaze technique, and I was a lot calmer and better prepared for the actual birth. We had a lot of trouble pinning down a due date for our second baby, but we finally settled on the first week of August. It was a very hot summer, and I gained another 50 pounds. When the baby was late, I started getting restless, irritable, and panicky. Once again, my midwife was there to calm me. When the baby was two weeks overdue, we did an ultrasound, my first ever. And baby was right at term and healthy. A few days later, he was born. Once again, my midwife was calm and reassuring, even when I couldn’t coordinate my pushing with the last-stage contractions. I had gone into labour late the previous night, and was just tired. She gave me an herbal tea that helped energize me and coordinate my efforts. After the midwife got my problems sorted out, we hit another snag: baby just didn't want to come out. I was pushing and pushing, but he wasn’t coming through the pelvic opening. So the midwife helped me onto a birthing stool and was able to determine the problem and guide baby through the pelvis. Once again, she was exactly the person I needed to guide me through the birth process.

I realize that hospitals have made many advances since my Mom had her children. There has even been a lot of progress in the seven years since my second son was born. But, I would still choose home birth over hospital birth.

With both of my labours, I was able to move around, try all sorts of things (like sitting in a warm bath to ease the contractions), and choose the position I wanted to be in for each stage. I tried squatting, leaning, lying on my side, and walking around. I was able to eat light snacks when I was hungry.

Most important, I was in a non-threatening, familiar environment--my home. I didn't have to worry about the noise I made or what would happen if my water broke all over the floor. I didn't have to worry about picking up any iatrogenic disease because a birth attendant inadequately cleaned his/her hands after checking another patient. I didn't have to pack a suitcase and hope that I remembered everything I might need for both labour and a hospital stay. I didn't have to make a mad rush for the hospital. I was able to relax, concentrate on having the baby, and enjoy (yes, enjoy!) the process of labour.

I was also allowed to do some other things that hospitals are, at best, impatient with. I had read Birth Without Violence -- a book about natural, gentle childbirth by Frederick Leboyer. I wanted to try some of his techniques, like low light levels, a gentle "floaty" bath, and not cutting the cord until it stopped pulsing. The last consideration has to do with allowing the child to take his time adjusting to the process of breathing, as opposed to forcing him into breathing by cutting off his oxygen supply. My sons lay on my stomach for almost an hour while we waited for them to decide that they were ready to breathe on their own, and it was the most wonderful hour of my life. I had time to examine every skin cell, count fingers and toes, gently massage their backs, and hold their tiny hands. It really was a beautiful experience.

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